Rooted
by OhEmGeeMail
Summary: The Capitol is a city of grandeur, filled to the brim with bright lights and artificial nonsense. I shouldn't be here... I don't belong in this fake utopia. I am a tree. I need to be back home where living things thrive and flourish. I will survive the Capitol and all the games they make us play. I will live. Peeta x OC


**Rooted**

So I've had this sitting around in my brain for some time now and decided to finally get to writing. My life has been insane so it has been nice to just sit down and write. This will be a Peeta x OC fic and will be starting from the beginning of the 74th Games. Hope you'll guys stick with me. Well I won't blab on, enjoy.

I do not own the Hunger Games or anything to do with it but the original characters in this fic are all me.

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As a little girl I held a deep admiration for birds, I loved everything about them. Their calls and cries was music to my ears and I so desperately wished to understand their language. I would have given anything to know their native tongue, but it was a special secret just for them. Colorful feathers were as good as gold and I treasured them so. Underneath my bed was a small chest filled to the brim with feathers of all shapes and sizes. Rarely did I remove them from their home in the chest, I was perfectly content with simply looking. Even as a child, I was aware of how delicate a feather was. One wrong touch and the silky texture would fray, ruining it forever. But what I adored most about birds was their ability to fly. I dreamed of growing a pair of wings and joining them in the great big sky, soaring through the clouds without a care in the world. But as I grew older, as I left my childhood innocence behind and opened my eyes to the reality of the world. I realized why I've always regarded birds so highly.

I envy their freedom.

Birds aren't chained to the earth like me. Birds aren't bound to Panem like me. Birds aren't confined to the dense forests of District 7 like me. Birds don't live in fear of the Hunger Games like me. Birds are free to live. _Unlike me._ And now of all days, I feel more trapped than ever. It was easily the worst day of the year; Reaping day, and the gravity of it is felt by everyone. Parents feared for their children who in turn worried about their own lives. Which unfortunate souls would be called up this year? A soft knock came from behind my bedroom door and my mother pokes her head in.

"Are you ready to go?" she asks, her voice soft and sullen.

I'd have to be blind to miss the puffiness of her skin and the faint redness staining the whites of her eyes. This day is especially hard for her; for all of us really, but it affects her the most. Reaping Day is a constant reminder of the son she'd lost for the Capitol's entertainment. I don't remember much from those games, I was so young when they happened. I didn't realize the gravity of Reaping Days, didn't understand why my older brother Ashe was on tv; I thought he'd become a celebrity, and didn't t he would never be coming back to us. It wasn't until I heard my mother's heartbroken scream after seeing my brother be impaled by a sharp spear, that I realized something was truly _wrong._ That year we quietly grieved as the pretty blonde girl from District 1 was crowned victor of the 64th Hunger Games. Ten years have passed since Ashe died and we've never truly recovered from it. Sure, the sadness eventually faded away but we were left with an emptiness that could never be filled. I could see my mother's sunken shoulders, see the fear hidden behind her big brown eyes, I could never possibly imagine the demons that tormented her today. My typically powerful and proud mother had been reduced to a sad quivering woman, but I could never blame her. Ashe was sixteen when he'd been reaped and now that I was sixteen, she feared we would share the same fate. That out of hundreds of names, mine would be the one pulled from the big glass jar. Her paranoia is rubbing off on me, all morning I've been pacing my room trying to ignore the fear that has festering in my chest since I woke up.

She looks at me anxiously and I offer her a small smile, it's all I can really do right now. I'll be strong for her, I have to be.

"I'll meet you downstairs in a second mom, just got to put shoes on."

She shoots me another sad look before finally leaving, I don't get off my bed until I hear her footsteps on our creaky stairs. Slowly I stuff my feet into worn leather boots and throw my hair into a loose knot at my nape. I'm trying to stall for as long as possible, but I can only smooth out my dress so many times. I've finally run out of excuses. I steel myself for the worst and leave the safe haven of my room to greet my family downstairs. Four sets of eyes stare at me, all of them sharing the same sorrowful gleam. My father holds my mother close, comforting her as much as he can. Gedeon and Lennox; my oldest twin brothers, stand by the mantle with their arms crossed over their chest. I know they're all nervous for me, but I really don't like how they were all staring. It's making me uncomfortable.

"I'm ready to go." I say, my voice firm.

I quickly flee the cabin before my voice has the chance to waver and crack. No need for them to see through my tough girl facade.

We walk to the center of town in near silence. There was a word or two muttered by my brothers, but the sullen mood that had fallen over my family stifled any conversation. My palms are sweating profusely and my heart is racing a hundred miles a minute, I'm positive it's going to burst through my rib cage. Now wouldn't that be a sight to see? As we approach town square, my father quietly pulls me aside while Gedeon and Lennox usher our mother to one of the numerous viewing stations. I stare up at him and and immediately feel my eyes tingle with tears. My father is a large stocky man; years of working with lumber kept him strong, and he even sports a thick beard typical of a lumberjack. He's an 'actions speak louder than words' kind of man, I can count on one hand how many times I'd heard him say 'I love you' to me or my brothers. But he works himself to the bone to provide for his family, doing anything and everything in his power to keep our bellies full and a stable roof over our heads. When Ashe died, a piece of him died too. Unlike the rest of us, he didn't allow himself to fall into a pit of despair. He carried on and became the pillar of support we desperately needed. I didn't have to hear him say it to know he loved us. He reminds me of a big overprotective bear. And I'm his adoring little cub.

My throat begins to constrict as tears threaten to fall. No, I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.

"How're you doing Little Sprout?" he asks.

Oh of course, he just had to pull out the childhood nickname. My bottom lip trembles as the walls I've spent all morning building up start to crumble.

"I'm okay." I croak.

He simply throws an arm around my shoulder and pulls me towards him in a warm comforting embrace. I press my face into his chest and try to discreetly rub my tears into the soft flannel of his shirt.

"It'll be okay," he leans back after a moment to look me square in the eye, "you'll be okay so there's no need to cry."

I untangle myself from his arms and rub my running nose with the back of my hand. "I wasn't crying, I just got something in my eye."

"That's my girl," I wince as he claps me hard on the back, "this was supposed to be a surprise but uh, your mother baked you a cake for tonight, to celebrate another safe year."

"Now I've got something to look forward to, thanks dad."

We hug one final time before going our separate ways. Checking in is quick and for the most part painless. The Peacekeepers prick my index finger, cross me off a long list of names, and corral me into what can only be called a pen with the rest of the sixteen year old girls of District 7. I immediately feel a sharp poke in my ribs and turn just in time to see Fern Dessinger dramatically falling towards me. Her body collides with mine and I catch her instinctively, I wish I'd just let her fall. Maybe then she'd know better than to throw herself at me. Fern and I have been friends since we were kids, I sat next to her in the school cafeteria where she proceeded to talk my ear off about the travesty of mixing plaid and stripes. We've been stuck with each other ever since. So I have no qualms with letting her take a fall or two. She'd always had a flair for the dramatic and of course today was no different.

"Oh my dearest bird brained friend, I thought you weren't going to make it today." she wails, loud enough for everyone to hear.

"I'd have to be brain dead to miss this."

Literally. Everyone knows it's illegal to miss Reaping Day. Only the dying are allowed to skip out and even then they have to watch a live broadcast of the day's events from home.

"And stop calling me that, you know I hate it." I say, shoving her lightly.

Fern clicks her tongue and flips her long blonde hair over her shoulder. "I can start calling you a barbarian if you'd like. Because everyone knows it's rude to push."

"Oh sh-"

I'm interrupted by a sharp screech coming from the speakers of the Justice Building. Mayor Rothery cringes away from the microphone and taps it hesitantly before returning to his post. Fishing a crumpled sheet of paper from the breast pocket of his jacket, he clears his throat and starts into a long boring speech. He drawls on about Panem's origins, the Dark Days, the defeat of the rebelling districts, the consequential destruction of District 13, and the creation of the Hunger Games. I zone out just as he begins introducing our past victors.

Fern elbows my side. "Who do you think is going to be picked?"

"I don't know."

"Hm, well I hope a twelve year old isn't picked. It's just so sad."

"Everything about this is sad, it's just not fair. Why are we still being punished for something that happened a long time ago?" I say louder than intended. A few heads turn in my direction and I wave in apology.

"By all means, talk loud enough for everyone to hear us." Fern teases.

"You're annoying."

"But you love-"

Again we're interrupted. Apparently it's becoming quite the trend this Reaping Day.

"Helloooooo everyone!" trills Clement Eversley in a high pitch voice typical of a Capitol citizen.

Clement Eversley is the escort for District 7. It's somewhat entertaining seeing what he is going to show up in and this year he certainly did not disappoint. His flourescent yellow suit is hard to miss, his skin is as white as a sheet of paper, and his green hair is teased to ridiculous proportions. And… are those apples in his hair? He looks like a walking bowl of fruit, all bright and shiny. What a waste of perfectly good apples. I can't believe people in the Capitol actually wear stuff like that. All the frills and embellishments just get in the way, how does anyone get any work done when they're in the most impractical clothes? That was a stupid question, people in the Capitol don't work. That's what the districts are for.

"I am just so excited to be here with you all again this year! Do we have a future victor on our hands?"

No one responds.

"Silly me, I forgot that it's so early in the morning. I'm sure you're all asleep on your feet out there."

It's just past eleven, but I suppose when you sleep in until ten this could be considered early. Most people in seven are up and moving by six in the morning.

"Will you just get on with it already?" snaps Johanna Mason, "Some of us have things to do."

"Oh Johanna you're as feisty as ever, but that's why we love you."

She scowls in his direction with such intensity that I'm sure Clement is going to spontaneously combust.

"Well let's get started, shall we? If it's alright with you all, I think I'm going to _spruce_ things up this year and start with the boys."

Fern groans. "Ugh, please tell me he didn't just make a tree joke.

I shrug, my attention captured by the eccentric man on stage. I watch with bated breath as Clement saunters over to one of the bowls. He dips his hand in, digs around in the sea of paper slips, and daintily pulls out a name. He returns to the microphone and names our first tribute.

"Falcon Segreto, come on up!"

After a moment of silence, a small boy exits the twelve year old pen and makes his way towards the stage. I feel like I've been punched in the gut. This is so incredibly wrong, he's just a little kid. Why did he have to be picked? He doesn't stand a chance in the games, twelve year olds never win. Clement meets him at the top of the stairs and yanks Falcon up to the stage. The oblivious escort happily presents him to us like some kind of prize. I can see the poor kids' knees shaking from all the way down here, I tear my eyes away. I can't stand to watch anymore.

"Now do we have any volunteers?"

There are murmurs of discontent, but no one steps forward. No one ever does.

"Let's move on to our lovely ladies!"

He zips over to the bowl containing the girl's' names and retrieves another name. A wide grin makes its way to his lips.

"My my my now this is exciting, will Crane Segreto please step forward?"

A girl makes her way from the twelve year old pin towards the stage. The boy is visibly crying by now and then it hits me like a pile of bricks, that's his sister. Their last name for whatever didn't register to me, but seeing them standing side by side certainly does. The same large green eyes, the chocolatey mop of curls covering their heads, and their pale as snow skin. They're practically identical.

"Oh no…"

A broken howl comes from a viewing station and I turn in time to see a woman fall to her knees. She screams in pure agony. It's the kind of sound that splits you right down to your core. She scrambles to her feet to sprint towards the stage, but she's quickly apprehended by Peacekeepers.

"Please no! Not my babies, please! They're all I have, don't take them from me!" she cries desperately, reaching out for her children.

Guilt fills the pit of my stomach and I'm afraid I might actually throw up. They're going to die. That poor woman is going to have to watch her only children die on national television. I'm reminded of my own mother, she was devastated when she lost _one_ child. If she'd lost all four of us? She never would have recovered. And those poor kids, their lives are being stolen from them for the entertainment of the Capitol. They haven't had the chance to experience life for all it has to offer. Not that I'm some expert on life experiences, District 7 is all I've ever known, but I'd say I've had it pretty good. Why do I get to live while these two are shipped off to their deaths? Between the shrieks of a grieving mother and the disarray on stage, I hear a familiar cry overhead. A large osprey glides through the empty sky, completely unaware of the havoc being wreaked underneath it. It gracefully loops through the air; almost mocking me, before it disappears from sight. Stupid bird. It gets to come and go as it pleases, gets to live another day. I look back and forth between Falcon and Crane Segreto's tear stained faces and sigh. I may just be some insignificant girl from 7, but even I can do some good in this cruel unfair world. In a moment of clarity or perhaps complete insanity, I raise my hand.

Fern digs her nails into my arm and hisses. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Somebody has to do it."

"Yeah but that someone doesn't have to be you."

"Sorry Fern."

I wrench my arm from her grip before she can change my mind. The other girls immediately make way and I'm standing alone on the dirt path.

"I'd like to volunteer." I say clearly.

All eyes are on me and I have to resist the urge to cringe away from them. Maybe I should have worn a nicer dress.

"Well I'll be, come on up dear," Clement says gratefully, "let's get things back on track."

He ushers Crane down the small steps and I take her place on stage. I wonder if they can hear my heartbeat thundering in my chest.

"What's your name sweetheart?" he asks while shoving the microphone in my face.

I clear my throat. "Juniper Lomonte."

"District 7 meet your newest tributes, Falcon Segreto and Juniper Lomonte!"

Following the close of the Reaping, we're immediately escorted into the Justice Building and dumped into our own separate rooms. I've never seen anything like it. The entire room is covered from floor to ceiling in various shades of green with furniture so beautiful that I'm afraid to touch anything for fear of breaking it. We certainly don't have anything like this in 7. We aren't the most lavish district in Panem, nothing like those Capitol lapdogs in District 1, but we aren't a complete waste land either. Things as lavish as velvet are pretty rare out here, some of the more accomplished carpenters in town were able to work with it, but never for themselves. All the finest wares are promptly shipped off to some hot shot in the Captiol. The heavy oak door swings open; I cringe as it slams into the decorated wall, and my family rushes in.

"Um, I guess I won't be having any cake tonight."

My measly attempt at humor fails miserably.

"How could you do this to us June?" Lennox asks angrily, "Why would you throw your life away like that? You were in the clear, you only had to go through one more Reaping and you would have been safe! I mean honestly, what were you thinking? How could you be so selfish? Do you not remember what happened to Ashe?"

"Don't you dare throw him in my face!"

"News flash idiot, he's dead! He died in the very games you just volunteered for. What is this about, hm? Are you trying to be famous or something? Or are you just so thick headed and stupid that you forgot what happens to people who go to the Hunger Games?" he rants.

"It's not like that okay?! I volunteered for those kids! That poor lady was going to lose them both, what was I supposed to do?! Just stand there and let them die?!"

By now Lennox and I are shouting while the rest of our family watches dejectedly.

"Yes! Sometimes life isn't fair and things just happen June! In case you forgot, you're just a kid too! You don't magically turn into an adult at sixteen! It's not your job to try and fix every little thing! You're an idiot for thinking you can and now you're going to die because of your stupidity."

"Yeah well thanks for the vote of confidence, nice to know my family is looking out for me! Oh wait-"

"Please stop this…"

I whip around to face our mother, I'm shaking like a leaf. He just makes me so mad! I'm well aware of how irrational this whole thing is, but I had to do something. I don't regret volunteering. I take a deep breath and slowly exhale through my nose. This certainly isn't how I expected this to go.

Lennox stomps out of the room and slams the door loudly behind him. Gedeon smiles sadly before going after him.

"I'm sorry mom." I apologize softly.

She sighs. "We love you sweetie and I know you're brother didn't mean to raise his voice, we're just scared for you."

"I shouldn't have yelled either."

She wraps her arms around me and we hug for a long time. There's nothing more comforting than a mother's hug. She's taking this surprisingly well, I know she'd been crying this morning but now her eyes are dry as can be. I need to follow her example, I don't want to look like a crybaby on national television. I refuse to let anyone look down on me. I won't be an easy target. My father rests a hand on my shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze.

"I'm not happy about this situation but you did a good thing and...well I'm proud of you kiddo."

"Dad stop or you're going to make me cry."

He flushes in embarrassment. "Er sorry."

"Promise you'll be smart in there June."

"I promise."

A Peacekeeper barges in and I start to panic. I'm not ready for them to leave. I need more time, just five more minutes. My parents are ushered out and I'm left alone again, but the solitude doesn't last long. Just as the door shuts behind my parents, Fern is shoving her way in and she immediately throws herself at me. I can always count on her to be dramatic.

"I can't believe this is happening, you're going to the Hunger Games." she says.

"You're not here to yell at me are you?"

Fern frowns. "What? No of course not."

"Lennox and I kind of got into it."

"Oh I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I shrug, "I know he's just looking out for me but he doesn't have to be such an ass about it."

"You're his little sister, of course he's going to freak out," she takes my hands into hers and drops something small into my sweaty palms, "but I'm not here to talk about your brother."

A sparkling green barrette shaped like a leaf shines back at me.

I gasp. "Oh Fern I can't take this, it's your favorite."

"Shut up and just take it before I change my mind, I want you to wear it in the arena. You should have something to remind you of home."

She takes the barrette and carefully pins it in my hair. "And besides it looks much nicer on you anyway."

Time has escaped me and before I know it a Peacekeeper arrives to retrieve my best friend. I wave sadly as the Peacekeeper takes her by the arm and pulls her out.

"I'll tell you all the hot gossip when you come back to us! Bye June!" she cries as the door shuts in her face.

My next guest takes my breath away. The weeping mother from outside stares back at me, her face wet with fresh tears. Discomfort settles into my every pore and I have to avert my eyes, it feels like her weary gaze is cutting me into a million pieces and I hate it.

"I have no right to ask this," she starts, "you've-you've already done so much for my family, you spared my little girl... but please I beg of you, please look after my boy."

I cup my elbows and tuck them into stomach, I need to do something, _anything,_ to hide my uneasiness.

"I'll try…" I say barely over a whisper.

That seems to be enough for her because she gives a quick nod and flees the room. I'm left alone again to my thoughts. No other guests come to visit me. I lie on the plush velvet couch and count the floral tiles on the ceiling until a Peacekeeper returns for what seems like the hundredth time to retrieve me. The ride from the Justice Building to the train station is a short one. Falcon and I don't say a word while Clement chatters on about Capitol feasts and how much we'll adore the fashion. It isn't until we're standing on the platform of the train station with hoards of cameras flashing in our faces that the nausea strikes. It takes everything to not throw up all over my dress. The reality of the situation hits me like a sledgehammer to the skull. I'm about to leave District 7. I'm going to the Hunger Games. No, I _volunteered_ for the Hunger Games like a crazy person. And now I am probably going to die.

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So what do you think? Good? Bad? Something inbetween? Let me know! I did my best to edit this but if there is a super embarrassing grammar error, definitely let me know and I will fix it. The second chapter is already in the works so I will see you all soon!


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